


Peter Parker and His Totally Fine and Not at All Terrible, Horrible, Awful Visit to the Compound

by GinnyRose



Series: Peter Parker: Disaster Bi Extraordinaire [12]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers Compound, Avoidance, Bad Family Dynamics, F.R.I.D.A.Y. is a Good Bro, Flirting, Fluff, Good Peter, Happy Hogan is a little shit, Humor, Kissing, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, NOT endgame compliant, Ned Visits the Compound, Ned needs a hug, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Brings Ned to the Compound, Peter is terrible at hide-and-seek, Precious Ned Leeds, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Peter Parker, Slight Hurt/Comfort, Texting, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Tries, Worried Peter Parker, bad impersonations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 02:27:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21740071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GinnyRose/pseuds/GinnyRose
Summary: For the first time in over a month, Peter was going to visit the Compound. He wasn't nervous at all.Well, perhaps he was a little nervous, but that was okay, because he had a plan.As long as the Avengers couldn't see him, they couldn't bother him, right?Right?Too bad that, between a Universe that despises him and a surprise visit from Ned's least family member, Peter's plans go very wonky, very quickly.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker/Ned Leeds
Series: Peter Parker: Disaster Bi Extraordinaire [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1037802
Comments: 11
Kudos: 254





	Peter Parker and His Totally Fine and Not at All Terrible, Horrible, Awful Visit to the Compound

Peter was nervous.

Not really nervous, of course. Because he was sure everything was going to be fine.

Just a little nervous. Even if the annoyed looks Happy kept throwing him over his shoulder every time Peter tapped his fingers against his seat told a different story.

Really, Peter was pretty chill. Practically frozen.

His fingers danced a little jig on the leather seat beside him.

For the first time in over a month, Peter was heading back to the Compound to work with Mr. Stark. They had never intended for there to be such a long gap in his internship, but after the debacle at the Nook and his and Ned’s virtual kidnapping, Mr. Stark had been very skittish about having Peter around the other Avengers. Peter himself hadn’t really minded the break – he had missed working alongside Mr. Stark in his lab, of course, but he had been able to talk with the man fairly often and they had worked together through video frequently. They – meaning Peter, Mr. Stark, May and Ms. Potts - had even gone to dinner together when they had been in town just the previous week.

He honestly could have gone a lot longer without visiting the Compound – and thereby risking seeing the other Avengers - but after a rather vicious fight with some gun runners in the Bronx and a run in with a few trigger-happy drug smugglers, his suit was in dire need of maintenance. And that could, of course, only be done in the labs at the Compound. So, despite both his and Mr. Stark’s trepidations, Peter was headed upstate for the weekend for his first voluntary visit to the Compound since the Avengers had fully moved in.

Not all of the Avengers would be there, Peter knew. Colonel Rhodes was currently working in the DC area in some super classified pentagon stuff that Mr. Stark absolutely refused to share with Peter. Mr. Lang and Mr. Barton – both added to the reserves roster of the Avengers’ as part of their plea deal that got them out of house arrest early - lived with their families, far away from the Compound. Wanda Maximoff and Vision had decided to go on a long cross-country trip so that both could experience the country before Wanda started studying for her diploma. And of course, both Mr. Thor and Dr. Banner were still off-planet – a fact that was a major source of disappointment for Peter who would have gladly gone through any embarrassment for the chance to meet _Thor_.

But that still left Mr. Wilson, Ms. Romanov, Captain Rogers, _and_ Sergeant Barnes living full time at the Compound. The four he least wanted to see and the four who were most likely to make his visit hell. Mr. Stark had told him that they had no choice but to believe him about Peter being just an intern after he had shown them some video from Karen showing someone swooping around the city in a Spider-Man suit while Peter had been heading to the Compound – how the older man had gotten that and how he had made it convincing enough to fool even the Black Widow, Peter wasn’t sure he wanted to know – but that there was definitely some suspicion and that his best bet would be to continue lying low. Peter, of course, had been all too willing to do so but now he was going to be stuck living with them for two days while he worked with Mr. Stark on his super suit, which he was officially not supposed to have.

It was a very stressful situation. No one could fault Peter for feeling nervous.

Just a bit.

Happy let out a disgruntled grunt, shooting another glare through the rearview mirror as Peter’s fingers continued tapping an incessant staccato beat. “Sorry, Happy.” He muttered, clutching his fingers into a fist. Happy merely grunted again and turned his attention back to the road ahead of him. They were almost to the Compound and the road outside the window was surrounded by a never-ending sea of vibrant trees and the occasional large colonial house. Peter generally enjoyed the calming view – a nice change from the fast, never-ending city he was used to – but now it filled him with a sense of unceasing dread. It meant that, with every passing tree, he was closer and closer to the Compound.

May and Ned both had done their bests to assure Peter that everything would be fine – Peter even had a beaming message from Ned reassuring him that his weekend would be absolutely awesome to look at on his phone whenever he felt particularly discouraged – but he still couldn’t settle his nerves. He was, after all, scoring a rough zero out of three in the good-first-impressions-with-the-formerly-rogue Avengers department. It was only natural that he was unsure about this weekend.

His best bet, he decided as Happy pulled into the private road leading to the Compound, was to completely avoid them. If Peter didn’t see any of them, after all, he wouldn’t be able to embarrass himself or accidentally rouse their suspicions again. And if they didn’t see him, they wouldn’t be able to corner him or try to question him. And if they didn’t see each other, Mr. Stark wouldn’t have a chance to get so angry again.

Peter really, really didn’t want to anger Mr. Stark again. Anyone who warned about getting Dr. Banner angry had never seen an irate Tony Stark. Peter had no doubt that the Hulk himself would have been tempted to run for the hills if he had been at that last meeting.

No, avoiding the other Avengers was absolutely his best bet. Nothing bad could happen if they didn’t even know he was in the Compound, after all. And he was staying in his normal room on Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts’ private floor, so it wasn’t like he would be having to dodge them at every corner. It would be very easy to get through the weekend without the others catching a glimpse of a single one of his hairs.

Or it should have been, if he hadn’t somehow murdered the Universe’s beloved pet cat or whatever caused it to despise Peter with every fiber of its primordial being.

The first spot of trouble occurred before Peter had even fully made it out of Happy’s car. Happy had parked in his usual spot in the garage, exactly three spots down from the entrance, and Peter had been half out of the car when the door to the Compound swung open, revealing the bulking form of Sergeant Barnes and an annoyed looking Mr. Wilson. With an embarrassingly high-pitched sound that he would go to his grave denying was a squeak, Peter dived back into the car and lay himself flat across the back seat.

Happy’s face quickly appeared at the window, a look of irritated confusion on his face. “What the hell, kid?” He whisper-hissed through the window. Peter gave him his most pleading look.

“I’m not here!” He mouthed at the window. Happy continued to look irritated but years of working with Mr. Stark must have made him impervious to weird behavior. With only a grumble or two, Happy turned away from the passenger seat and walked back towards the trunk of the car. Peter watched with bated breath as the figures of Sergeant Barnes and Mr. Wilson made their way pass the car.

“Hey!” One of them – Mr. Wilson it sounded like but Peter couldn’t be sure as he pressed himself even further down into the seats. “Happy, right?” Definitely Mr. Wilson, Peter couldn’t hear even a trace of the old Brooklyn accent Sergeant Barnes obstinately refused to drop.

“Yeah.” Peter heard Happy gruffly respond. Then there was a soft click and Peter watched as the trunk of the car opened up, conveniently obscuring the back window. “Do you need something? I got all this stuff to take up to Tony.” Peter was pretty sure the only thing in the back of the trunk was his overnight duffle bag, but Happy must have been pretty convincing because neither of the other men seemed to question it.

“Sorry, man, I don’t mean to keep you. Just got a quick question.”

“So ask. Don’t have all day.” God bless Happy and his general grumpiness. There were few things more detracting than an irritated middle-aged man in a suit. Peter doubted Mr. Wilson or Sergeant Barnes would be loitering long.

“Right, yeah. Do you happen to know which way’s quicker to reach the city, the interstate all the way or back streets and then merging? Me and this idiot can’t agree.” Peter could hear the annoyance in Mr. Wilson’s voice and wondered why, if the man seemed to hate Sergeant Barnes so much, he was going on an hours’ long trip with him.

Happy, either because he was generally annoyed or because he was trying to keep Peter undetected, scoffed irritably. “Do I look like a damn GPS to you?” He demanded. “Take the damn interstate if you want to be there before dark.” He added begrudgingly, before loudly slamming the trunk door down and making Peter flinch from the noise.

“Right, thanks.” Mr. Wilson sounded unsure, obviously thrown off by Happy’s anger. Then Peter heard two pairs of footsteps head away and a muttered conversation. It sounded like Sergeant Barnes had won their argument, much to the continued displeasure of Mr. Wilson.

Peter waited until he heard the faint sound of a car start and back away before he hesitantly sat up. He watched out the back window as a dark sedan, undoubtedly carrying both the other men, left the garage. Then he finally reopened the car door and stepped out.

Happy was waiting for him, his duffle bag thrown over one shoulder. “Mind telling me what the hell that was?” The older man asked wryly, tossing the bag at Peter the moment he was fully out of the car. Peter fumbled before catching it.

“Um, it’s complicated?” Happy made a show of rolling his eyes as he turned away from Peter but at least he was content enough to not ask any additional questions. Peter really didn’t want to explain himself and risk Happy’s derision. Peter was pretty sure he heard Happy mutter something about being too damn old to deal with weird-ass teenagers but he would gratefully take grumbling over intrusive questions.

Peter was perhaps overly cautious as he and Happy headed into the Compound but the exasperated looks Happy gave him as he hesitantly peered past each corner before proceeding forward was worth passing the communal areas undetected. By the time they had made it out of the elevator and across the living room of the communal floor, Peter’s anxiousness had eased. All the lights were out and he was fairly certain no one was out except him and Happy.

“Hey Kid!” Peter jumped back as a loud voice called out from a dark corner, accidentally sticking himself to the wall behind him.

“M-Mr. Stark!” Peter called back annoyed as he forcefully pulled himself from the wall, taking a few specks of the paint with him. Mr. Stark was loudly laughing as he stood up from the lounge chair he had been crouching in and Peter was further aggravated when Happy joined in with a few chuckles of his own.

"You’re jumpy today, kid. What’s up?” Mr. Stark asked as he finally calmed down, striding over to Peter and picking up his forgotten duffle bag. Peter glared halfheartedly at him as he snatched it from his hands.

“I’m not jumpy!” He responded, his glare settling into more of what Aunt May and Mr. Stark called a ‘disgruntled pout,’ much to his constant annoyance.

“He jumped back into the car to hide from Barnes and Wilson about ten minutes ago,” Happy gleefully ratted him out, an amused smirk on his face. Peter shot him a disbelieving look. Was there nothing _sacred_? Peter would have said something to that affect, but he was distracted by the sudden emergence of Mr. Stark’s concerned-parent stance, complete with arm folding and severe frown.

“Are they still bothering you? They’ve been going to the city a lot; did they try to meet with you again?” Peter could hear the underlying threat in Mr. Stark’s voice and knew that if he didn’t answer in just the right way, Mr. Stark was going to go on the warpath all over again.

“Nothing like that!” He promised quickly. “I just didn’t want to run into them is all! Happy’s exaggerating – I did not _jump_ back into the car!” He inwardly cringed at the sudden dirty look from Happy – he didn’t like throwing the older man under the bus but he would do what he had to in order to ensure World War 3 didn’t break out over his weekend visit. It wasn’t like he would have needed to do it if Happy had just kept quiet in the first place.

Mr. Stark didn’t look completely convinced but Peter could see some of the tension fade from his body and decided to consider that a win. “You aren’t going to hear me complain about you trying to stay away from them,” his mentor finally said. “Just try not to give yourself a heart attack in the process. You aren’t any good to me dead and we have a lot of work to cover this weekend. Take your stuff up to your room and then meet me in the lab.”

Peter grinned, obviously relieved, and darted up the stairs. It didn’t take long to cross across Mr. Stark’s and Ms. Pott’s living room and down the small hallway that led to the private bedrooms. He threw his door open, careful to make sure it didn’t slam into the hall wall behind it – Ms. Potts had been very unamused when she came home to a slightly off-colored patch in her wall when Peter had tried to fix a doorknob-shaped hole in it after his second overnight visit to the Compound – and tossed his duffle bag onto the bed, making sure to pull out his suit at the last minute.

Sparing only a minute to send a quick “made it safe!” text to May and Ned, Peter rushed back down the stairs to take the elevator to Mr. Stark’s lab. Peter, of course, did have permission to take Mr. Stark’s private elevator, located just off the side of the living room, but that elevator was quite small and Peter always felt a little uneasy in it when he was going down it by himself. So he always opted for having F.R.I.D.A.Y. take him to the labs through the main elevator.

Had he known what was awaiting him on the main floor, however, he would have taken Mr. Stark’s private one without any hesitation. Alas, the spider bite hadn’t given Peter any precognitive abilities and the universe hated him, and so he bounded down the stairs, Spider-Man suit balled up casually under his arm, horribly unaware.

In his brief absence, Mr. Stark had left the floor – presumably to head down to the laboratory and wait for Peter – and the communal floor was still dark and quiet. Peter slowed himself down to a brisk walk, mindful as always of his aunt’s voice in his head scolding him for running in the house. His mind was already racing with all the thoughts he had for improvements to the suit, once they did their basic maintenance. He and Karen had come up with some tweaks to the alert system Mr. Stark had put in after the Vulture incident that he was dying to share with the older man. He really thought Mr. Stark would appreciate automatic messages that could tell him whether Peter’s elevated heart rate was a risk-factor or whether he had just taken his shooters out for a few more swings than usual. Peter knew that he, at least, would appreciate not getting as many concerned calls from his mentor.

And there were the modifications he wanted to make to the Spider web wings attached to the suit’s arms that would allow him to glide for longer periods of time which would just be perfect for when dropping down on an assailant required two arms instead of one –

So entranced in his thoughts was Peter that he almost didn’t notice the soft click of a door closing somewhere in the hallway to the right of the communal living room. Just in time, he registered the sound and with a silent curse, leaped onto the wall and scurried onto the ceiling. Feeling far too much akin to his spidery brethren, Peter pushed himself as far as possible into the darkened corner the furthest away from the hallway. He hardly dared to breathe as he watched Ms. Romanov walk into the common room.

She was dressed in plain black leggings and a dark blue t-shirt tied at her waist, her hair tied in a ponytail; it seemed obvious that she was prepared to go to the gym or out for a run and Peter was hopeful that she was going to just immediately leave. His hopes, however, were immediately dashed when she leisurely made her way to the kitchen, far too close to Peter’s corner of the living room area for his liking. Peter forcefully resisted the urge to curse or bang his head against the wall as he watched her flip on the light on with a practiced ease and head towards the refrigerator. The light was nearly blinding but Peter forced himself to blink away the sudden onslaught of dots in his vision. He couldn’t risk even a moment where his vision was compromised with Ms. Romanov in the room.

He watched, holding his breath for as long as he could between short, quiet breaths, as Ms. Romanov pulled various fruits, spinach, and the milk from the fridge and set them systematically on the counter. He watched, trying very hard not to think about how incredibly creepy it was to watch someone without them knowing, as she pulled out a frankly ridiculously large container of protein powder out of the pantry, followed by the blender that for some unknown reason everyone apparently insisted on keeping in the most inconvenient cabinet ever instead of on the counter like normal people. Then he watched as she pulled a large glass from another cabinet.

It was becoming frankly obvious that Ms. Romanov was in the kitchen to stay for a while. Peter could hardly risk staying much longer – it was a miracle that she hadn’t sensed him already and he could feel his luck draining with every second that ticked by. And he knew that the longer he took to get down to the lab, the more likely it became that Mr. Stark would ask F.R.I.D.A.Y. where he was. There was no way he would ever live this down if Mr. Stark found out what was going on. Not to mention that all Ms. Romanov had to do was look up and glance at the corner for his cover to be blown completely.

Peter _had_ to get himself out and fast.

Very carefully, Peter glanced over to the door leading out to the elevator. It was much further away than Peter felt comfortable with and he inwardly cursed Mr. Stark’s vast fortune that allowed for ridiculously large rooms as he returned his gaze back to the woman in the kitchen. Ms. Romanov had nearly finished adding all her ingredients – she just had the milk to add – and Peter knew she would start blending soon. The loud whirring of the blender’s blades would be his best chance to cross the ceiling undetected and he slowly – very, very slowly – began creeping out from his corner. As soon as Ms. Romanov had placed the lid on the blender and hit the blending button, Peter was crawling across the ceiling as quickly as he could silently go.

In order to use both his hands, he had unceremoniously stuffed his suit partially down his shirt before he’d left the corner but one sleeve had gotten loose, dangling down conspicuously as he made his way across the ceiling. He didn’t have time to fix it and he sent several silent prayers to the universe that Ms. Romanov would not turn around. There would be no explaining this.

The universe must have, for once, been on Peter’s side because he made his way to the door before the blender stopped and after one more cautious look over his shoulder to see that Ms. Romanov was still turned away from him, he allowed himself to unstick from the ceiling and dropped down, the slight thump of his shoes mercifully masked by the whirring of the blender. Without hesitation, Peter reached out and opened the door before darting out. He could hear that the blender had stopped but he didn’t slow down even as the door behind him closed with a very audible click.

Knowing that Ms. Romanov would absolutely investigate the sudden open and closing of the door, Peter didn’t waste any time calling out for F.R.I.D.A.Y. to open the doors as he dashed towards them. Blessed F.R.I.D.A.Y. responded immediately and Peter didn’t even have to slow down, racing immediately through the doors and then panting the command to close the doors and head down to Mr. Stark’s elevator. F.R.I.D.A.Y. obeyed immediately, seeming to sense Peter’s aggravation as she remained silent.

Peter caught his breath in the short ride and by the time the doors were opening, he thought he was composed enough to meet Mr. Stark in the laboratory.

He was not, however, prepared for the man to be standing just on the other side of the doors, smirking knowingly at him. Peter couldn’t help but jump back, eyes wide. “M-Mr. Stark!” His voice was an octave too high to be normal but Peter plastered on what he hoped was a completely casual smile. “You scared me!” He added a bit of a laugh to his voice, hoping it would pass for casual rather than nervous.

“Peter tingle didn’t feel me coming?” Mr. Stark replied, the amusement clear in his voice. Peter felt himself flush vividly – he _really_ needed to find out how to get May to stop calling it that. It was catching on far too rapidly.

“No, my _sense_ only works if there’s something coming that’s a threat.” Peter couldn’t help but sound a bit petulant – he thought it wildly unfair that his body gave him a warning if someone was coming at him with a knife but was completely quiet whenever someone he knew was approaching him. He and Ned would have been saved many, many awkward moments if Aunt May or the Avengers were considered a threat by it. “Anyway, did you forget something? Why were you heading upstairs?” Peter didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was changing the subject – it wasn’t like he was any good at it and, more importantly, Mr. Stark would tease him a lot more if he tried to be coy about it than just straightforward. Peter had learned a lot working with Mr. Stark.

Mr. Stark’s smirk seemed to grow as he stepped aside for Peter to walk out of the elevator. Peter only had a moment to feel uneasy before Mr. Stark began speaking. “You know, Peter, I’ve got F.R.I.D.A.Y. programmed to give alerts for any unusual enhanced activity.” He said it so casually, one hand casually reaching out to give a brief, friendly squeeze to Peter’s shoulder, that it took him a moment for the significance of the words to hit Peter. “It’s a new thing, so I don’t blame you for not realizing. When there are so many enhanced individuals in one place, accidents can happen, you know. So F.R.I.D.A.Y. alerts me if there’s anything she flags as strange so that we can prevent as many of these as possible.”

Peter forced himself not to tense up even though he was inwardly cursing up a storm. He had been so focused on not being caught by Ms. Romanov, he hadn’t even considered Mr. Stark finding out. It wasn’t as bad as Ms. Romanov, of course, but at the moment it felt like a very close second as Mr. Stark continued speaking, “Imagine my surprise, kid, when I got an alert from F.R.I.D.A.Y. saying that you were climbing on the ceiling.” “Want to explain that one?” Mr. Stark’s voice remained surprisingly casual as he steered Peter into the laboratory.

“I just – you know – like to spice up my traveling techniques. Crawling on the ceiling is actually great cardio.” Peter inwardly winced as he spoke. Even to him, the excuse sounded weak and hollow. Mr. Stark obviously agreed as he turned to face Peter in the lab, quirking one eyebrow.

“I know you aren’t leaving footprints all over my ceiling for cardio, kid. What’s up?” There was no room for argument in Mr. Stark’s voice and Peter cringed slightly away. He really wasn’t looking forward to Mr. Stark’s reaction but he also had no choice. He had enough experience with his mentor to know there was no way in hell he would get away without explaining it.

“Well,” Peter ran his free hand through his hair nervously, the other still clutching his suit tightly. Mr. Stark just raised an eyebrow at him again, expectantly. “Mrs.RomanovwasinthekitchenandIdidn’twanthertoseeme.” The sentence rushed out of him in a giant mess of words but Mr. Stark, experienced now in all things Peter, unfortunately had no difficulty understanding. He also, rather unfortunately, had no problems laughing in Peter’s face if he thought the boy was being ridiculous.

Which he proceeded to do. With gusto.

Peter’s face flushed red. “It’s not funny!” He scowled at the older man who continued guffawing in a very unslightly manner. Peter was half tempted to record it and post it on twitter to show the world how awful the man actually was. “Mr. Stark! It’s not _that_ funny!” He called again and finally Mr. Stark calmed down.

“Oh, I very much disagree, Underoos. It’s _hilarious_.” Mr. Stark made a show of wiping an imaginary tear from underneath his eye and Peter glared at him, his face vibrant pink. “Let’s just run this through – you didn’t want to talk to Nat because of the whole “deeply suspicious that you’re Spider-Man thing, right?” Mr. Stark paused and Peter found himself reluctantly nodding. “So instead of just walking through the room without addressing her - even though you knew full well that I told all the Avengers to leave you the hell alone – like a normal person, you decided to crawl onto and walk across the _ceiling_ – which is something only one _very_ specific hero can do - in the hopes that she wouldn’t notice you?” Mr. Stark posed his statement as a question again and Peter’s face heated even more as he forced himself to nod again. His reaction, unfortunately, sent the older man into another fit of laughter.

“Mr. Stark! It’s not that funn- Mr. Stark please stop laughing!” Peter’s face was bright red by the time Mr. Stark finally calmed down again and he glared at the older man. “It’s not that funny.” He repeated, knowing he sounded completely petulant but unwilling to care. It would have probably been better to just let Ms. Romanov see him than deal with his mentor when the older man was like this. “I was holding my suit and I panicked.” He added, jutting his lip out in a way that was definitely _not_ a sullen pout. Mr. Stark seemed to finally take pity on him.

“Alright, alright. I think it was a bit – a tiny bit – of a major overreaction, but I understand why you did it. You haven’t had good luck with the other Avengers and I know that your flight or fight instinct is – extreme. I’m sorry about laughing.” Mr. Stark wasn’t really that great with apologies, but he was getting better and Peter could feel his anger and embarrassment melting away. “But we got to come up with some better avoidance measures. You can’t just keep jumping back into cars or onto the damn ceiling – they’re not _complete_ idiots and they’re going to catch on.” Mr. Stark continued speaking, sitting himself down in a chair and spinning it dramatically before gesturing for Peter to take the other open seat.

Peter obediently sat, setting his suit down on the empty worktable before folding his hands into his lap. “Like what?” He asked. Mr. Stark was right – he couldn’t keep doing what he had been doing and expect the Avengers to not catch him out – and there was no one he knew that was better at outright avoidance than Mr. Stark, not that he would ever say that out loud to the older man. He had once witnessed Mr. Stark successfully navigate an hour’s long press conference without ever once answering a question just because one of them had asked him a highly personal question about Ms. Potts in the beginning. Then he’d disappeared without a trace afterwards, just so they couldn’t bother him afterwards. He was a venerable king of avoidance.

“Well, to start, you could always ask F.R.I. to set alerts for you if any of the others are about to come into the room or are already in a room you are trying to enter. That way you have more than a splits’ second warning and can probably do better than hiding on the ceiling. Do that again, by the way, and I will take a broom and poke at you like an actual spider until you get down.” Peter ignored the jab with ease, focusing instead on the first part of his statement.

“I can ask F.R.I.D.A.Y. for things like that?” He asked, surprised. His life would be so much easier if he could have F.R.I.D.A.Y. looking out for him. Mr. Stark just raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yes, Peter. You can ask F.R.I.D.A.Y. for things like this. You are authorized to ask F.R.I.D.A.Y. for anything, except the super illegal stuff. Only I get to ask my baby to break into the Pentagon. Isn’t that right, F.R.I.?”

“Indeed,” she responded pleasantly. Peter beamed.

“Awesome!” He barely resisted fist bumping the air, knowing exactly how Mr. Stark would react. “Could you please set alerts for anytime I’m about to enter a room with an Avenger other than Mr. Stark, Mr. Vision, or Colonel Rhodes?” Mr. Vision and Colonel Rhodes were rarely at the Compound, but when they were Peter enjoyed talking to them. Colonel Rhodes had been friends with Mr. Stark for a very long time, after all, and he knew all the good stories that kept Peter going whenever Mr. Stark was being particularly Mr. Stark-ish. Mr. Vision was the smartest entity in the entire world but he was still very young and there was hardly anything better than teaching him various memes and internet phrases just to watch Mr. Stark freak out over it.

Peter may have developed a bit of a mean streak about his mentor. He would look into it a different day.

“Of course, Peter.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. answered succinctly and Peter grinned again.

“You’re awesome!” He told the AI.

“Thank you, Peter. I am indeed.”

“No cheek!” Mr. Stark told the AI and Peter couldn’t help but laugh at the sudden concern in his voice. There was only one person allowed to be snarky in the lab besides Mr. Stark and that was only because very few people in the world were stupid enough to try to tell Ms. Potts what she could or couldn’t do. “Now, sometimes meeting with another Avenger at the Compound will be unavoidable.” Mr. Stark continued, gesturing widely with his hands to ensure he had Peter’s attention. Peter dutifully sat up straight, listening as Mr. Stark adopted his “mentoring” voice. “That’s where other avoidance techniques come in. Now, I typically adopt the classic “Don’t Even Think About It” glare –“ Mr. Stark paused to demonstrate, turning his nose up at Peter just slightly and narrowing his eyes into a vicious glare.

Peter briefly tried to copy it but gave it up nearly instantly. He just knew that he looked ridiculous – he needed an actual reason to glare successfully, he could never pull off a fake one. It also felt ridiculous – why would he glare at someone that didn’t deserve it?

Mr. Stark seemed to agree with Peter’s inward monologue because he just shook his head. “but that absolutely would not work for you. You’re too sweet-looking, it’s like watching a puppy nip at its mother’s legs. That’s not going to intimidate a baby, let alone Nat or Steve.”

“Then what should I do?” Peter asked, leaning forward slightly as he gave his full attention to his mentor. Mr. Stark didn’t even take a moment to think about it.

“Well, your current tactic of hiding away gives way to the most obvious of tactics – run away.” Peter briefly imagined how that would look – entering a room and just straight sprinting past people. It definitely fit him better than Mr. Stark’s glare but it would also be rather humiliating. He would like to – eventually, in the far distant future – be able to look Captain Rogers in the eye at least once. “But that’s your absolute last option, got it? That’s the Hail-Mary-in-the-last-minute-of-the-final-quarter move, am I clear?” Peter dutifully nodded. Mr. Stark stared at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion, for a few moments before finally acquiescing with his own short nod.

“Now, running away can still be your go-to, you just need to add some finesse to it,” Mr. Stark continued, seeming to hit his stride as he leaned back and waved one contemplating hand in the air.

“How do I add finesse to running away?” Peter asked, feeling a little lost. Mr. Stark waved his hands around a little more wildly as he responded.

“Some pizzazz! Lie!” He added when Peter continued looking blank.

“I’m not good at that,” Peter responded immediately. The last time he had tried to lie to the Avengers, it had ended up with him and Ned in the back of Ms. Romanov’s car with his secret identity hanging by a single thread. He could only imagine what would happen if he tried again.

Mr. Stark just waved away his concerns with a single uncaring hand. “We all know that, kid. You lie worse than a two-year-old saying they didn’t get into the cookies with the crumbs still down their little cartoon shirt.” Peter wanted to be affronted but it was hard to argue with the truth so he let it slide. “It doesn’t have to be a big or extravagant lie. The best lies are rooted in the truth, anyway. Say you have to do homework or go to the bathroom. But don’t seem too eager to leave. Understand?”

Peter thought about it for a moment. Then he decided to be honest. “No, not really. You want me to run away, but to do it with pizzazz and not seem too eager. And you want me to lie, but do it with the truth?” Peter’s voice rose slightly in his confusion and he moved his arms around with enough aggravation that he knocked several papers off of Mr. Stark’s desk. Mr. Stark seemed hardly fazed by the sudden mess of papers.

“It’s really quite easy, Underoos. Here, you pretend to be one of the Avengers and I’ll be you.” Mr. Stark sat himself up ramrod straight, then pulled his feet up so that he was sitting in a cross-legged position and adopted a shockingly good imitation of Peter’s puppy-eyed expression. It was extremely disconcerting and Peter immediately uncrossed his feet and set them on the ground. He hadn’t even realized they’d been off the floor. “Oh hey, Ms. Romanov!” Mr. Stark’s voice was several octaves higher than Peter’s had been since he was about five-years old.

“I don’t sound like that!” He said indignantly. He might even have been convincing, if his voice hadn’t chosen to crack right at the end. Mr. Stark just raised a single eyebrow.

“You really kind of do, kid. Now be a good boy and put your best woman assassin face on.” Peter didn’t really know what that looked like but he put on his most serious expression and hoped that was good enough.

“Hello Peter.” He tried to imitate Ms. Romanov’s calm, deep tones and was pretty sure he failed just as much as Mr. Stark had with his voice. At least Mr. Stark was nice enough to let it go with just a single amused tick to his mouth. “What are you up to today?” He added, feeling increasingly more ridiculous as he continued the voice. He didn’t even have enough experience to know how Ms. Romanov would act if they met under normal circumstances. He was fairly certain knives or threats would still somehow be involved, though.

“Oh,” Mr. Stark stated excitedly, an insanely bright grin on his face that Peter immediately took offense to, “I have so much to do today – I’m meeting Mr. Stark to work on the Avengers’ communication devices, and then I have a huge report for history to do and then I gotta call Ned to –“ Peter held up a hand, blushing furiously. He really didn’t want Mr. Stark to go into any detail on what he thought he and Ned talked about.

“You should probably go get started, then.” It wasn’t what Peter had been planning on saying, but it came out easily enough even in his ridiculous Ms. Romanov voice. Mr. Stark blessedly dropped his Peter interpretation, settling back in his chair with a smug smirk.

“And that’s how you do it. Overwhelm them with the mundanity of high school life, and they’ll be begging for you to run out the door. Even if they don’t tell you to go, you can easily check your phone and say you’re running late.” Peter considered Mr. Stark’s words carefully. He had tried to do something like what Mr. Stark was suggesting before, when they caught him at the Nook, and it hadn’t worked. But perhaps it would work in a more normal situation, when he wasn’t trying to play off Spider-Man’s sudden appearance and disappearance. It beat getting caught on the ceiling, anyway. Mr. Stark was quite right that there’d be no going back from that.

“I can do that.” He finally answered. “Easy.” He continued. Mr. Stark clapped his hands together in response.

“Excellent! Now that your latest teenage crisis is averted, show me the suit. I didn’t make Happy drive all the way here with you just to gossip about other heroes and play-act with you.” Mr. Stark made “gimme” hand motions and Peter obediently handed over the suit. The material was supposedly wrinkle-proof and stain proof but Peter had to admit it was looking quite a bit dingier than it had last time Mr. Stark had seen it.

Mr. Stark made several clucks of disapproval as he swiveled in his chair and spread the suit flat against the worktable before him. “Is that a _rip_?” He asked, disbelieving as he pointed to a small tear in the left arm. Peter winced slightly, raising a hand to rub at the same spot on his own arm. Spider-Man had been involved in a relatively minor knife-fight in Flushing Meadows two weeks ago; normally the suit wouldn’t have been damaged with a plain knife but, as Karen had explained to him after running a diagnostics scan, there had been some corrosive substance on the knife that had done the damage. His arm had healed over okay and Peter had convinced Karen not to report it to Mr. Stark. He hadn’t considered the ramifications of that decision.

“Oh yeah, it tore on my windowsill when I was coming back in.” He said quickly. Too quickly, judging from the dark look his mentor sent him.

“A _windowsill_? Was it lined with diamond saws?” Mr. Stark scoffed. Peter just nodded and Mr. Stark muttered several choice words under his breath as he turned back to the suit. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., get a record of the last month of the kid’s rounds and send it to my tablet.” He added once he was done coloring the air blue. At least he wasn’t pulling it up immediately, Peter should have at least a few hours before that became an issue. “What’s this?” Mr. Stark pointed to a dark stain on the chest of the suit, just above the Spider.

“Oh, I’m not sure what that is,” Peter started before quelling at the dark look Mr. Stark sent him, “but I think it might – well, there is a small chance that it could be, you know, chocolate dipping sauce for a… churro. Or something very similar.” Peter finally admitted, blushing lightly. Mrs. Gutiérrez always gave him one now and it wasn’t like he could just _refuse_ the woman. Or a churro, for that matter.

Mr. Stark just shook his head disbelievingly. “You know what? I don’t want to know anymore. Let’s just start fixing up the suit before you give me a heart attack. F.R.I.D.A.Y., be a doll and start some music.” Peter inwardly sighed in relief when loud rock music immediately began playing all around the laboratory. He was officially safe for now, until Mr. Stark got around to watching the videos from his suit. He would probably be eventually forgiven for the unreported knife-fight, since the injury was so minor but there was a rather embarrassing recording of him singing a horribly off-key version of “Rock-a-Bye Baby” as he helped a lost toddler find his mother and there was no way Mr. Stark would ever forget that. But that was an issue for later. Peter pushed aside all his worries and eagerly accepted the small tool Mr. Stark was offering him.

They continued like that, handing tools back and forth and working on various issues on the suit as loud rock blasted all around them, for several hours. By the time they had finally finished uploading the last of the new updates to Karen, it was well past lunch and Peter’s stomach was grumbling audibly.

“Jesus, Kid. Did you eat today?” Mr. Stark asked, closing down the blueprints for the suit’s new gliders and swiveling his chair away to face Peter. Peter winced slightly and gave a noncommittal shrug. He may or may not have forgotten to eat the bowl of oatmeal and strawberries his aunt had left out for him out of sheer nerves. Mr. Stark scoffed in response and pushed himself out of his chair before reaching out to pull Peter out of his own as well. “Come on. Steve made pasta for himself and the other Avengers last night. We’ll see if there’s anything left in the communal fridge.” Peter knew better than to argue with Mr. Stark, especially when free food was involved, and he allowed himself to be pulled from his seat easily enough.

He was tempted to ask Mr. Stark if ‘the other Avengers’ included him as well. Then he remembered the dark look that had clouded Mr. Stark’s face the last time Peter had seen him in the same room as Captain Rogers and decided to keep quiet. He didn’t know the whole story between the two older heroes and at this point, he was too afraid to ask. Some questions, Peter was just beginning to learn, were better left unasked.

Even if he was really, really curious about it.

The elevator ride and walk towards the kitchen was quiet; Mr. Stark had pulled out his phone and was sending off rapid-fire texts. Peter had gotten pretty good at reading Mr. Stark’s stances and expressions and he knew that the disgruntled, annoyed expression his mentor was wearing was reserved for one particularly annoying board of director’s member who always insisted on speaking with Mr. Stark before Ms. Potts, even though she had been CEO for several years. Peter also knew that Mr. Stark didn’t like being interrupted during business matters, so he pulled out his own phone.

Ever since the debacle in the lab that had ended with Mr. Stark grumbling about shitty cellphone designs for an hour straight while he fixed Peter’s phone, he had been extra careful not to text in the lab. Ned – as well as aunt May and MJ who texted him nearly as often, although MJ’s texts generally consisted of mild insults, book quotes she liked, and memes – knew this well and typically waited for him to text first or waited until after seven, which was the Ms. Potts’-appointed lab curfew while Peter was visiting, to start a conversation while he was at the Compound. So he was very surprised to see, instead of just their usual good mornings, several unread texts from Ned, all sent within the last half-hour.

Feeling a little uneasy all of a sudden, Peter unlocked his phone to read the unopened messages.

The first was distressingly long – Ned only ever sent long messages when something upsetting happened. He didn’t even send long messages when something exciting was happening – he always sent a flurry of short messages because it got the story across faster. The uneasy feeling grew as Peter began reading the message:

_I know we normally dont talk while youre in the lab with mr stark but somethings come up and I just wanted someone to vent to. Aunt esme came for a surprise visit –_

Peter winced as he read that. Ned’s mother’s sister Esme, who lived in Hawaii, was a real piece of work. She was almost ten years older than Mrs. Leeds and had more than ten years’ worth of opinions on how her little sister raised her family. Most of these opinions, by virtue of him being the oldest and the only boy of his generation on their side of the family, fell onto Ned. Which meant her visits were very stressful and often downright unpleasant for him. Many times in the past, Ned had escaped to Peter’s apartment and spent as much of his aunt’s visits with the Parker family as he could without making it obvious that he was avoiding her. With Peter up at the Compound, however, he didn’t have that escape option.

_-its fine. You know I love her. But she started talking about how I should start losing weight or I wont find a nice person to settle down with after high school and I tried to tell her we were dating but she doesn’t consider it ‘real’ because its just high school and she really started to get to me. id have gone to hang with MJ but shes got her first date with Cindy and I dont want to mess with that._

Ned’s first message was followed by two more, written within a few seconds of each other:

_So Im just hanging in my room doing pretending to do schoolwork and I could really use someone to talk to._

_If you aren’t busy._

Peter had to focus on not accidentally crushing his phone screen as he clenched his fist around it. He didn’t much care what Ned’s aunt thought about their relationship – it wasn’t really any of her business – but the comments about Ned’s weight really rankled him. Ned had been forced to deal with those kinds of mean comments all throughout middle school from cruel, immature classmates and it had taken a lot for him to overcome the subsequent body image issues. It was absolutely unfair that he was dealing with them again from people in his own family.

He was so distracted, both by his concern for Ned and his anger at his aunt, that he didn’t notice when he and Mr. Stark finally came into the communal kitchen. Nor did he notice as Mr. Stark shot him a confused, concerned look as he slid his own phone back into his pocket and head towards the refrigerator.

_Im so sorry ned._ Peter wrote, leaning himself against a counter, completely oblivious to the looks his mentor kept shooting towards him as he began to pull out different sets of glass containers from the fridge. _Is there anything I can do to make it better?_ He didn’t know what else to say, at least not until Ned texted him more. It was hard to tell what he could say that would make it better when he was hours away.

“Everything alright?” Mr. Stark’s voice, low and worried, startled Peter and he jolted a little as he looked up from his phone. His mentor was standing in front of him now, a rather impressive stack of leftovers on the counter behind him, watching Peter with a concerned expression. What good was a super sensitive sixth sense, Peter wondered as he looked back down at his phone to see no new messages from Ned, when it didn’t help him not embarrass himself in front of his mentor? “Kid?” Peter looked back up from his phone. Mr. Stark wasn’t going to drop it, at least until he got a satisfactory response, but Peter wasn’t sure how much he should say. It wasn’t really his business – it was Ned’s. And Ned didn’t know Mr. Stark the way Peter did, no matter how much he looked up to him.

His phone buzzed with another message before Peter decided on how to respond and he looked back down quickly. _Just talk to me? Shes gonna be here for the whole weekend so Ill have to deal with her no matter what. Itll be easier if i could message you. Not all the time ofc since youre at the compound._

Peter hated the uncertainty in Ned’s message. Very few people could make Ned self-conscious the way his Aunt Esme could anymore but whenever she came for a visit, it was always present. Peter had hated it when they were little and his distaste only grew the older they got. Family was supposed to help build each other up, not tear each other down. Ned didn’t deserve to deal with that at all, let alone with no one around to help him deal with it. Peter really wished Ned’s aunt didn’t insist on surprise visits – he would have never left the city had he known Ned would need an escape.

_Ofc Ill talk to you –_

“Kid? Earth to kid?” Mr. Stark called out, interrupting Peter mid-text. Peter flinched slightly – stupid useless spidey-sense – and looked back up guiltily. He had almost completely forgotten Mr. Stark had been talking to him. “What’s wrong?” His mentor demanded, folding his arms over his chest and taking on one of his distinctive “I-am-Iron-Man-and-You-Need-to-Direct-Me-to-the-Problem-so-I-Can-Punch-it-in-the-Face” stances. Peter bit his lip, considering how much he should say. It wasn’t like Mr. Stark could do much and he didn’t talk to Ned – there was no reason to share what was going on with him. But Mr. Stark wasn’t likely to let it go without having some sort of reassurance that whatever was going on wasn’t going to kill anybody and he could be a good source of advice. He might know exactly what Peter could say to cheer Ned up.

“It’s nothing bad. Well, it is but not like _murder-bad_.” He spoke, finally deciding to share with Mr. Stark as he slid his phone back into his pocket. He wasn’t entirely sure it was completely his decision – Mr. Stark had a very intimidating “tell-me-what-I-Want-to-Know” expression – but it was better to say something than have to deal with Mr. Stark asking in more and more obnoxious ways until Peter finally gave in anyway. It had happened before.

Mr. Stark was very helpful like that.

“That is _not_ reassuring.” Mr. Stark responded shortly as Peter’s speech lulled. Peter flushed slightly.

“It’s just – well,” this was harder than Peter had thought it would be. It was easy to talk about his own problems with Mr. Stark but way different when it came to sharing Ned’s woes. He didn’t know how much to say and how much he should keep quiet. It was an odd feeling for a boy often accused of oversharing. “it’s a Ned problem.” He finally settled on for lack of anything better to say. He didn’t even realize how odd that sounded until Mr. Stark raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

“A _Ned_ problem?” He repeated. “You two, the poster-children for successful teen relationships, are having relationship problems?”

“What? No!” Peter responded quickly, shooting his hands up in an exaggerated motion. “Nothing like that! I said a _Ned_ problem, as in Ned _has_ a problem! Not a _Ned_ problem like I have a _Ned_ problem!”

“Because that makes it clear.” Mr. Stark huffed. The tension seemed to have ebbed through his body now that he knew Peter’s problems weren’t life threatening and he unfolded his arms from against his chest. “What’s Ned’s problem?” He added, even as he turned to go inspect all the leftovers he’d pulled out.

“He’s got an aunt coming to visit.” Peter told him, leaning back against the counter. He’d help with getting the food ready but they’d been banned from simultaneously cooking in the microwave after the third explosion. That, and he really didn’t want to.

“She the stuffy sort? Kind that makes you give her a hug and a kiss even if you don’t want to?” Mr. Stark asked, opening a lid and taking a sniff. “Chicken and broccoli penne sound good?” He asked absently. Peter nodded and Mr. Stark pulled out two bowls.

“Is it alright for us to eat the others’ leftovers?” Peter asked, diverging briefly from his concern for Ned.

“I provide two automatic grocery deliveries a week and the electricity keeping it cold. I’m pretty sure they are my leftovers at that point.” Mr. Stark responded, shoveling pasta into both bowls, making sure that Peter’s bowl had a significantly larger heap. Peter wasn’t sure it worked that way but the food looked good so he decided to let it go. “Anyway, no. She’s not like that. Well, I think she is but Ned doesn’t really mind physical affection. The problem is that she’s really controlling and kind of rude and whenever she visits she lists out all these things she thinks are wrong with Ned.”

“That’s shitty.” Mr. Stark commented, looking up from the two bowls he’d been dishing to frown at Peter.

“Yeah. It really gets to him after a while. Normally he comes and hangs out at my place for a bit when it gets to be too much and then he’s okay again but I’m here,” Peter emphasized the last bit with a helpless shrug as Mr. Stark placed the fuller bowl in the microwave. “So he can’t do that and he’s stuck with her. And I feel useless because normally I can comfort him or at least take his mind of what’s going on, but I can’t really do that when I’m all the way out here and he’s still in the city.” Peter couldn’t help but let some of his frustration come out in his tone. He hated not being able to help a loved one.

“So invite him here.” Mr. Stark casually responded, pulling on the door of the microwave to check the food.

“What?” Peter yelped, looking at the older man in surprise.

“You heard me – ow! That’s hot!” Mr. Stark pulled out the steaming bowl and quickly shook his hand. “You can’t come to him because you’re stuck working for me but there’s no reason we can’t whisk him away up here. We can say Stark Industries had such a success with the first high school intern we’ve decided to branch out to others or something like that,” he waved a dismissive hand before grabbing the other bowl and setting it in the microwave. “If he wants to, I’m not about to kidnap anybody.” Mr. Stark added as an afterthought. Peter stared at him.

“You’d allow that?” He squeaked; his surprise clear. Mr. Stark turned away from the microwave to look at him, a surprisingly serious expression on his face.

“You said he needs out. This is an out. A temporary one – one annoying teenager in my house is enough – but an out all the same. There’ll be rules!” Mr. Stark added as Peter jumped away from the counter to wrap Mr. Stark in a grateful hug. They had gotten a lot better at physical affection but the embrace still seemed to surprise the older man. “You aren’t sharing a room, for one! And you two are responsible for coming up with the story – it needs to get an okay from both your aunt and his parents! And he has to be ready to go with Pepper by the time she gets off work! And if he comes, I expect him to work! I’d like to see if he can hack into the phone again. I added a lot after the last time he was here!”

“Of course, Mr. Stark! Thank you, Mr. Stark!” Peter stepped away from his mentor, positively beaming. He had thought the older engineer would offer some useless platitudes or perhaps some decent advice but he had underestimated his generosity. “I’ll tell him and see what he says!” Peter added, pulling out his phone again and grinning happily. It was like a dream come true – he could help Ned _and_ spend the weekend working with him and Mr. Stark. And introduce him to all his favorite parts of the Compound without a recent kidnapping blemishing the visit.

He pulled out his phone and excitedly opened up his conversation with Ned. Peter’s unfinished message was still open and he deleted all of it to write his new one:

_I’ve got something better than talking. How would you feel about coming up and spending the weekend in the lab?_

He was so giddy with the rush of excitement writing the message gave him – he could get Ned away from his aunt! – that he didn’t think of what it would be like trying to avoid the Avengers while Ned was at the Compound. Or how he would explain Ned’s presence if they did catch up with him. All he could think of was getting to spend the weekend with his boyfriend and his mentor at the best lab in the entire country.

That was fine though. Mr. Stark had given him some sound advice on avoiding the others it wasn’t likely that they would fall into _both_ his and Ned’s paths again anyway.

Peter couldn’t help but grin more as Ned’s response lit up his phone.

_Wait, what? I can COME TO THE COMPOUND?!?!?! SRSLY?_

No, there was no way anything could go wrong. Peter was going to turn his boyfriend’s bad weekend into a good one and it was all going to be amazing.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone!   
> Thanks for reading! I'm sorry for the wait - life is hectic as usual. I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope you all enjoyed reading it! I'll try to update again soon!


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